


Are You Insane like Me?

by TheDarkGodMogar



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Future Rogue - Freeform, M/M, Sting Eucliffe/Rogue Cheney - Freeform, cause it will not help, dont read when sad, overused plot is overused, seriously filled with angst, stingue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkGodMogar/pseuds/TheDarkGodMogar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rogue Cheney could do nothing but scream as his worst nightmare came true</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frosch

**Author's Note:**

> I know everyone who has written Stingue has written this plot but I'm just using it to work on my writing style! Hope you guys like it!

It was cold.

Rogue was shivering. Why was it so cold? He could see his breath come out in puffs in front of him. His fingers were numb. _Where am I?_

His eyes shifted as things finally started coming into focus. He was lying in a large open space, mountains of rocks rising around him. The dry cracked earth was hard underneath him and his shoulder throbbed. At first he thought he was trapped by the rocks, but on closer inspection he saw paths weaving through the large boulders. There must’ve been a river through here some time ago. He was in a canyon. Rogue could feel the sun beating on his back. So why was he shivering?

A battle. He remembered a battle. Natsu and Gray from Fairy Tail had been there and he vaguely remembered the comforting presence of Sting’s power next to him. There was no magic by him now. He was alone. He couldn’t remember the last time he was truly alone; if Sting wasn’t there Frosch would be.

_Frosch…_

He had to find Frosch. She was probably terrified, hopefully hiding behind some rocks.

“Frosch?” Rogue called out. His voice was hoarse and he coughed a few times to clear it. He stumbled to his feet, a wave of dizziness causing him to almost faint. _Why am I so weak? Had I lost the battle before?_

The air seemed frozen. The world was spinning. He heard a muffled sound behind him.

“Frosch?” Rogue turned around, fighting to stay upright. He saw frost lining some of the rocks. A small pink figure lay in the pathway, ice surrounding it. “Frosch!” Rogue ran towards the cat, slipping on the ice and landing painfully on his knees next to her. Panic ran through him, hot and sticky as he slowly lifted a hand to touch the costume-clad cat.

Frosch wasn’t moving. Rogue’s hand hovered over the cat, searching for any sign of movement. Rogue couldn’t see or hear the cat breath, knew in the darkest part of his mind what was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He didn’t _want_ to believe it.

“Rogue?” The voice startled him. Rogue turned to see Sting standing a few feet behind him. His fists were clenched into fists and there were tears in his eyes. Why was Sting crying? Sting never cries.

“Frosch… it’s time to get up. We need to go home now.” Rogue’s hands shook as badly as his voice as he turned back to his cat. He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and winced. Why was his body aching? And why wouldn’t Frosch get up? “Fro please, it’s time to go home.”

“Rogue it’s too late. Fro’s-“

Sting couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, choking on his tears as he tried to gently pull Rogue back. Rogue dug his hands into the dirt and refused to move. He felt the ice bite into his fingers and the warning of frostbite vaguely registered within him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t leave. Not without Frosch.

“You’re safe now, Frosch. Come on, get up.”

A teardrop splattered on the back of the cat’s costume. Rogue reached out to pull her closer, turning her so she now faced him.

Rogue sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes saw what the dark corners of his brain had been telling him. Frosch’s eyes –once shining and full of happiness- were now stuck in a blank and lifeless stare. Her fur was clumped and matted and costume torn in various places. Icicles hung from her nose and whiskers. She was frozen solid.

Rogue’s hands clenched into desperate fists around the cat, holding her frozen body close to his chest as realization slowly dawned on him.

Frosch was dead.

* * *

Rogue screamed.

He screamed and cried so loud Sting was forced to take a step back and cover his ears. Rogue couldn’t do anything but sit there and _scream_ as sorrow and anger and pure agony rushed through him until it settled into his bones so that –even years later- that was all he would ever feel.

His shadows rose around him, gathering in a thick cluster of darkness, whipping through his hair and tearing through his clothes. He welcomed them, willed them to take some of his pain away.

_Rogue…_ He heard a whisper, barely audible over his screams. Eventually his voice cracked. Even though his mouth hung open in a wail, no sound came out.

“Rogue! _Rogue!”_ A hand clamped his shoulder, making his skin crackle with electricity where it touched him through his torn shirt. He knew who it was, knew it was Sting, could tell by the worry in his voice and the desperation in his fingers. Rogue once felt comfort in his touch, but this time he wrenched away from it as if it burned.

Rogue stood up, violently turning on his heel to face Sting. Frosch was still a damp ball of fur in his arms and his shadows still floated wildly around him. His eyes ward hard orbs of steel as he glared at Sting, his lips pulled back in a snarl. He looked like a demon from the Book of Zeref itself.

Rogue hoped this, along with the sheer force of his shadows, would keep Sting away. But he knew that was foolish. Sting wasn’t afraid of anything and he certainly wasn’t afraid of Rogue.

“Who did it?” Rogue growled, clutching Fro’s body closer to his chest. He took a step back when Sting stepped closer to him, ignored the look of hurt and indecisiveness that flashed through his eyes. “WHO DID IT?”

Sting stood a couple feet back, hands clenched into shaking fists at his sides and tears streaming down his face. He just shook his head in answer, mouth clamped shut as he glanced down at the lump of fur in Rogue’s arms before turning away.

Rogue felt his anger spike.

Before he could realize what he was doing, a bolt of dark magic sprang from his palm and flew straight into Sting.

Sting flew backwards, landing on his back and rolling a few more feet before slowly getting to his feet with a groan. Rogue just stood there in shock as he the reality of what he just did washed over him. He had attacked his best friend, the person he _loved_ , with an attack that would’ve killed any regular mage. He had hurt Sting!

Maybe he really was a monster.

_Rogue._

The whisper again. Although this time it was more assertive, Rogue still had to strain to hear it. He couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. The voice seemed to be everywhere all at once, low and silky smooth. It swirled around him like smoke, filling his lungs and choking him.

_We can avenge Frosch. Kill the man in front of you and become stronger. It is your destiny._

“Sting? No…he wouldn’t hurt Frosch.” Rogue glanced up at Sting. The White Dragon Slayer was swaying on his feet, face warped in pain and a hand clutching his stomach. Rogue’s shadows calmed as he felt a pang in his chest.

_He’s the only one around. The only one with the power to kill our precious Frosch. Who else could have done it?_

The voice was dangerously close to his ear now.

_Kill him Rogue. Do it for Frosch._

Rogue looked down at Frosch –still lying limp and cold in his arms- and back up at Sting. Sting had managed to take a couple painful steps toward Rogue, but couldn’t look him in the eyes.

Rogue felt an unnatural rage swell inside of him as he realized the voice was right. Sting _was_ the only one here who could’ve hurt Frosch. Whether it was accidental or not, Rogue couldn’t bring himself to care. The shadows rose around him again, more violent and bloodthirsty than ever, as Rogue succumbed to the rage that was boiling in his heart.

Rogue screamed again, this time out of fury and terror, as he saw one of the shadows grin at him and everything faded to black.

 


	2. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holycrap this one took forever. Easily the longest thing I've ever written. I'm just gonna apologize here.....oops. I didn't proofread this before posting it so let me know if theres any spelling errors or anything!

Sting couldn’t see a damn thing.

Shadows whirled around him, a never-ending sea of darkness. This wasn’t the first time Sting had been in Rogue’s shadows. Seeing as it was a part of one of their new combinations, he was actually becoming accustomed to the feeling. Those shadows had always been soft and affectionate, wrapping around the Dragonslayer like a warm, fuzzy blanket, kept him safe; they felt like home. These shadows, however, were cold and laced with malice, whipping around him with enough force to slice his skin and rip his clothes. He could feel the sticky red fluid running down his arms and legs. It was hard to breathe, shadows squeezing his neck and filling his mouth and nose. His brain was filled with fog and he blearily wondered how he was still alive before he remembered this was _Rogue._ The two would be constantly getting into scuffles, (that would usually end with one or the other moaning for _more, please._ ) but Rogue could never actually kill Sting.

_You promised, Sting._

The words glided through the darkness, running over the White Dragon’s skin like a caress. Promise? Promised what?

_You promised to save me, protect me from the darkness. Please, Sting._

A memory of home flashed in front of his eyes; a bright room, smashed furniture, someone screaming. _Rogue…_

* * *

 

_Sting had been woken by the sounds of things being thrown against the wall and loud screams of anguish. He had raced out of the bed, getting tangled in the sheets and falling on his face in his haste, and ran down the hall to the second bedroom. He had burst through the door, nearly knocking it off the hinges, before stepping back with a hiss. Every single goddamn light in the room was on, making it as bright as a football field, a stark contrast to the rest of the dark house._

_Sting looked around the room, blinking as his eyes slowly adjusted to the glaring brightness. Frosch was cowering in the corner, slightly hidden behind the overturned desk. She looked up at Sting with wide, terrified eyes. Sting felt relief wash through him; she was shaking, but otherwise unharmed._

_“Please-help Rogue.” Frosch croaked, pointing to the other side of the room with a shaking paw before darting out of the door. Entrust her to Lector’s care, Sting turned in the direction the cat had been pointing._

_Rogue was kneeling on the floor, hunched over and breathing heavily with barely-controlled fear. Broken bits of glass lay around the Dragonslayer, piercing his skin and causing fat drops of blood to soak through his clothes. He was mumbling to himself, words so low even Sting couldn’t hear him, fingers tugging painfully at his hair as he fought through this internal conflict._

_“Rogue?” Sting crept towards his friend, overstepping a broken chair to kneel next to him, ignoring the pieces of glass that poked at his knees and putting a hand on Rogue’s shoulder. Rogue could feel the worry in his grip and felt a shudder run through him, ashamed at having been found like this. He looked up at Sting, eyes wide and so impossibly_ red _that Sting felt like he drowning in them. Tears stained the other’s cheek and Sting felt his features soften, worried lines smoothing into a soft, concerned smile._

_“Hey, what’s wrong? You never cry unless it’s over Frosch.” Sting rubbed his thumb over Rogue’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears. Rogue stiffened under the contact, turning to growl at something over his shoulder. Sting’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, gently grabbing Rogue’s chin to turn his head so they were eye-to-eye. “What is it? What’s there?”_

_Rogue’s growl turned into a whimper as he leaned into Sting’s touch, hands grasping at his bare shoulders. “I-it’s my- the shadow again.” Rogue’s hands tightened on his shoulders, almost bruising, as Sting rubbed his hands soothingly up and down his friend’s arms._

_“What’s it saying?”_

_Rogue took a deep, shuddering breath as he tried his best to ignore the ringing in his ears. “I-it’s laughing. Saying I’m going to k-kill Frosch. Kill you.” Rogue looked up at Sting, eyes glossy with more tears. Sting felt frozen in place by the fear in the other’s face. He was almost hyperventilating at this point and Sting tried his best to comfort him. “Even now it’s saying-yelling how easy it would be to run you through. To just a-accept it. To just- SHUT UP!”_

_Rogue snapped, head turning to glare behind him. A hand let go of Sting’s shoulder, curling into a fist to punch the hard floor before Sting could stop him. Thankfully, the hardwood floor stayed intact. “SHUT UP! It’s not true! Stop talking!”_

_“Hey-hey Rogue! Look at me, ok?” Sting’s fingers gently pulled him back, bringing him closer so he could wrap his arms around the shadow mage. “Whatever that thing says, it’s lying. You won’t do any of those things. You’re a good person Rogue. You would never hurt your friends._ Especially _not Frosch.”_

_Rogue felt hot tears dripping down his face, knew he would kick himself later for showing such weakness. But Sting was_ here _and he was_ alive _, the embodiment of warmth and light and safety and Rogue found himself clinging to him for support. His hands curled around his shoulders, forehead resting against his bare chest, breathing in his scent and feeling his racing heart calm. Until it spoke again and Rogue’s entire body tensed and he clung tighter to Sting, needing his light to keep him sane. Rogue was fighting a losing battle, and Sting was his one line of defense._

_“Sting, you have to promise me. Promise me that if I ever-if my heart does become tainted by darkness-you’ll use your light to save me. Even if that means-even if that means striking me down.” He was still shaking, but the words came out with absolute clarity, leaving no room for argument._

_Sting tensed, pulling back to get a better look at his friend’s face. Rogue was still fighting back tears, but his eyes were hard in grim determination, mouth set in a thin, trembling line. Sting felt his stomach drop, like he was on a train, and had to bite back the bile that rose in his throat._

_“Rogue, I-I can’t-“_

_“Promise me! Promise you’ll save me, save Frosch and everyone else. Please, Sting. You’re the only one who can.”_

_Sting’s hands tightened on Rogue’s arms, bracing himself for the future that neither one of them wanted to acknowledge as he nodded, pulling Rogue more tightly to his chest in a protective embrace._

_“I will. I promise._

* * *

 

Bright light shot out from Sting’s palms, travelling up his arms and down his chest, down to the very tip of toes. The once cold darkness was not penetrated by scorching hot white light. It chased away the shadows, allowed Sting to breathe, and offered him salvation.

_Save me…_

With a scream that scraped his throat raw, Sting burst through the shadows, landing painfully on his side. His breath came out in short, desperate pants as he tried to figure out his surroundings.

He was still in the canyon, boulders edged with frost rising around him on all sides. The sun was still shining, nearly as hot as his magic had been a moment ago. He could hear Lector calling out to him and turned to find the small Exceed hiding behind some rocks, tears streaming down his face. Sting offered him a reassuring smile, one that quickly turned into a grimace as his entire body ached. He wasn’t sure what had happened before he had been swallowed by shadows, but he felt like he had been run over by a train. Multiple times.

Someone was talking behind him, words slightly too low to hear. Sting turned to find Rogue standing a couple feet behind him, his shoulders set back in a stance that screamed confidence and a wide grin stretching back his lips, baring his dragon canines in a snarl. Through the tatters of his clothes, Sting could see swirling black lines tracing over his arms and legs, scales covering his neck and outline his face. Power was emanating from him in waves, much more power than Rogue had twenty minutes ago. Sting was shaking under the force of it. Was this….

“Rogue?” The shadow dragon’s eyes snapped up to Sting, looking at him in way that-in any other situation-would’ve made the white dragon shiver. Now, Sting had to forcefully push away the fear that prevented his limbs from moving.

Rogue’s grin widened as his eyes locked with Sting’s, blue and red clashing in a never-ending battle. The familiar warmth in those crimson eyes was gone now, replaced with a deep animosity that shook Sting to the very core. The look was as foreign to him as being completely alone, and it scared the shit out of him.

Sting was the first to break the staring contest, eyes instinctively looking over the other for any serious injuries. That was when he noticed Frosch. Rogue was still holding onto her damp body, clutching her close to his chest, and it didn’t look like he was going to let go anytime soon.

That’s what gave Sting the hope he needed. Rogue was still in there somewhere. Sting could still keep his promise.

“Rogue’s not present currently.” Sting finally tore his eyes away from Frosch, glaring at the _thing_ that had possessed his friend’s body as he slowly got to his feet. The damn thing even sounded like Rogue, voice low and smooth as silk. Sting has to repress the shudder that ran down his spine.

“Give-him-back.” Sting panted, sweat causing his hair and what was left of his clothes to stick to him. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he prepared himself for battle.

Rogue’s head titled to the side and the look he gave Sting could only be described as pure bloodlust; eyes wide in anticipation and excitement as he watched his prey, his lips pulled back in an animalistic snarl. His tongue flicked out over his teeth, pushing up against his dragon canines like he couldn’t wait to sink them into Sting’s neck.

“I told you, Rogue isn’t here!” Rogue disappeared from sight for a moment before appearing again right in front of Sting. His fist, wrapped in shadow, connected with the white dragon’s jaw, sending him skidding back before he could right himself.

“Dammit Rogue! Snap out of it!”

Sting ran at him, every part of his body glowing with his White Holy Magic. The shadow mage only smirked, effectively dodging each attack with ease. Then Rogue’s foot connected with Sting’s stomach and he went rolling painfully across the ground. Sting picking himself up with a groan, more out of frustration than pain. He knew Rogue better than anyone; knew his magic as well as his own, knew the way the other stood when he attacked, his attack patterns, even his the god damn count of his breathing as he fought. This shouldn’t be this hard of fight, not matter how strong Rogue might be. But this thing that was possessing him, using his magic, was completely unpredictable. Some of the moves would be familiar, but at the same time it felt like Sting was fighting a completely different person; someone he had fought against once and then never saw again.

It looked like Rogue, talked like Rogue, even smelled like Rogue, but the person in front of Sting was not his best friend.

“Rogue! Listen to m-“

The words were cut off when another kick connected with the side of his head, throwing him backwards and sideways. He felt dizzy, the cuts on this body bleeding profusely, but he couldn’t give up, not now.

“What happened to becoming a man who cherished his friends?! Who protected the people he cared about? Where is he now?!”

Rogue paused in his attacks, a look crossing his face that Sting couldn’t identify. His hand tightened around Frosch as he looked down at her corpse, seeing the tatters in her costume, felt the coldness already in her small body. He snarled as he let go and they both watched as her body hit the earth with a thud, Rogue not giving her a second glance as he stepped over her.

“That man is dead. He failed. All that matters now is becoming stronger.” His eyes raked over Sting, stilling at his bare chest, right next to his heart.

Sting had to fight down the bile in his throat, eyes filling with unshed tears. For the first time in his life, he felt too exposed. He wanted-no, _needed_ \- to keep his promise to Rogue. _His_ Rogue. He couldn’t give up hope. Rogue was still in there somewhere. He had to be.

“Frosch wasn’t your fault! There wasn’t anything you could do!”

All Sting saw was red before he was thrown back against a large boulder. The rock crumbled under the force, a loud _crack_ echoing throughout the air. All the oxygen rushed out of his lungs and more was being denied to him by the hand around his throat. His back scraped against the broken rock face as the hand lifted him so they were eye-to-eye, Rogue’s face mere inches from Sting’s.

“ _You_ killed her. I couldn’t protect her, but at least I can avenge her.” Sting felt his eyes bulge at the accusation and he tried to argue, say he would _never_ hurt Frosch, Rogue should’ve known that, but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get the words past the hand squeezing his throat.

Rogue’s features softened softly as he looked at Sting, turning from a murderous rage to a small sneer.

“You know, Rogue really loved you. His faith and trust in you made it nearly impossible for to get close to him. He saw you as his saving grace, the light that was going to keep me away.” The words were hot in Sting’s ear, the shadow mage leaning in to flick his tongue along the shell of his ear, mouth tugging at the earring. Sting wanted desperately to pull away, but his muscles refused to move and the hand around his neck tightened with bruising force. “It was quite bothersome. Even now, he’s screaming, telling me not to hurt you; that you’ll still save him. Even as he watches the life bleed out of you, he still _believes_ in you. It’s disgusting.” Rogue pulled back to look at Sting, face filled with contempt, pulling his eyebrows down and scrunching the lines around his mouth. “Soon, he’ll learn how useless it is to rely on others. That having friends will just bring you death and despair. Becoming stronger is all that matters.”

Fingers ghosted over Sting’s arm, down his chest, stilling at the area near his heart. Sting felt his heart stop before stuttering again at an almost painful rate, fear overtaking him as he realized what was about to happen.

“Rogue-“

Sting clamped his mouth shut as fingers pierced his skin, biting back the whimpers of pain. Rogue watched with an eerie fascination as dark droplets of blood dripped down the other’s tan chest. He leaned forward to lick away a drop, savoring the taste before digging his nails in deeper.

Sting couldn’t hold back the scream that wretched his throat, filled with despair and laced with agony. He could feel each finger ripping through his chest, tearing through flesh and muscle and god knows what else as they search for their target. Finally, his fingers enclosed around the shiny white lacrima, gripping it tightly, a grin spreading across his face.

If he moved his hand so much as an inch to the right, he could stop the white dragon’s heart. As it was, he could feel the power leaking from the lacrima, hear Sting gasping shallow, pain-filled breathes, and knew this would be enough.

Sting could barely stand at this point, the loose weight of Rogue’s hand at his throat the press of the others body against his the only thing keeping him upright. He felt his strength leaving him, being stolen from him; his arms refusing to move, his brain filling with mud. He knew he was going to die here, but all her could think of was his promise to Rogue, the words echoing in his ears.

_I promise to save you. I promise to…I promise…I promise…_

_I’m sorry._

Another scream tore out of throat as the precious lacrima was ripped from his chest, blood spurting out from the wound. The power Sting’s father had given to him was gone and so was his resolve. He should’ve known there was no saving his friend now, should’ve known from the dead look in those ruby eyes Sting cherished, from the malice twisting his once beautiful features, should’ve known the moment he had dropped Frosch. This wasn’t Rogue. Rogue was dead.

And now Sting was going to join him.

Rogue stepped back, delirious from the power pulsing out from the lacrima in his hand.

“Thank you, Sting.” He murmured as he watched the white dragon fall.

Sting was dead before he hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -hides forever-


End file.
